What is it about possessing things? Why do we feel the need to own what we love? And why do we become such jerks when we do? We've all been there. You want something, you possess it - and by possessing it, you lose it.

I've always been a student of this life, not a teacher. More of a sponge than a fountain.

The English, a spirited nation, claim the empire of the sea; the French, a calmer nation, claim that of the air. [Fr., Les Anglais, nation trop fiere S'arrogent l'empire des mers; Les Francais, nation legere, S'emparent de celui des airs.]

Words are most malignant, the most treacherous possession of mankind. They are saturated with the sorrows of all time.

I had cooperated. I could not have refused. I was smitten with her, half in love but also afraid, because in my life (and she seemed to know this) I had not loved anyone without having been wounded. Love was power and possession, love caused pain: you were never more exposed than when you were in love, never more wounded; possession was an enslavement, something stifling.

But soon I loved her completely and wished to possess her, own her, absorb her, eat her. I wanted her in my arms and in my bed, I longed she would open her legs to me